PS 3543 

n655 
P6 
1903 
Copy 1 




iflNVORSr 







1^0'^^^''''''^^ J 




# 


i^S^^i* 







'!.'W!SIIRgffiai«»S«a(.1»«l'*»''-= 









etHffieeeimimtt^Ha^^ 



iimiiimmimmmsHi^mmmimmmm 



immmmrnmimsmmmmm 




Class rot ^4 5 



Cojpght]»i^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 



POEMS 




'y'''''''''<iii,i>y., ., ,, 



mu! .,.., 



r^^', 



M$iiM6i 



"/! 





*i 



ALBERT Hrft'TCft 



THE SONC OF THE WHEAT 




??f-'':°;.}] M'< 






POEMS 
BY 

MARIE 

VAN 

VORST 



>' 



W^ 



^!^,T 




THE Library of 

CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 

APR 1 1903 

Copyf(ght Entry 
CLASS ^ XXc. No. 

COPY a. ' 



Copyright, igoj. 
By Dodd, Mead and Company 



First Edition published March, igoj 



UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON 
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 



I INSCRIBE MY FIRST BOOK OF VERSE 

TO THE MEMORY OF 

MY BROTHER 

JOHN VAN VORST 



Thanks are tendered to Scribner's Magazine and to the 
Pall Mall Magazine for the courteous permission to reprint 
verses already published in these periodicals. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

The Song of the Wheat 3 

In the Joint of his Armour 13 

Laurens Villa 21 

The Host 26 

The Pagan 31 

LYRICS 

Sing Again 39 

Forest Lovers 41 

Like to a Songless Bird 43 

Three Years 45 

The Wind upon a Summer Day 46 

On the Norman Cliffs 47 

Mid- Winter 48 

Mare Placido 49 

In the Greenwood 50 

Evening Time 51 

In the Window 53 

The Glass 55 

Three Days More 56 

Love's Paradox 58 

Vita, Vita ! 59 

The Sleep 60 

The Reward 61 

ix 



Page 

Les Revenants 63 

The Boon 65 

The Sign 66 

SONGS 

The Fireside 69 

Love — Where You Go ! 70 

CosTANZA Sings 72 

May in February 73 

Brier Rose 74 

The Sleeping Heart 75 

Absence '](> 

To-morrow 77 

Old Time Melody 78 

Though All Betray 79 

Break Thy Sleep 80 

Red Roses 81 

Song 82 

Slumber Song 83 

Fantasy 8^ 

ROUNDELS 

The Inspiration 89 

Luce Adorabile 90 

Teach My Song 91 

The Apostrophe 92 

X 



Page 

Carrier Doves 93 

The New Friend 94 

L'OisEAU DBS Bois 95 

God's is the Night 96 

Christmas 97 

Love's Universe 98 

Summer 99 

Winter 100 

Amor in Excelsis • • loi 

The Rose . 102 

Where are You, Dear ? 103 

La Mort est Toujours FiDfeLE ! 1 04 

The Watch 105 

The Year's End 106 

Outre Mort 107 

Dead Love 108 

SONNETS 

Viva ! Anima Carissima in 

Excommunicate 115 

The Confession 116 

The Kingdom 117 

Amor Victrix 118 

Saint Ouen 119 

Renunciation 120 

Envoi 121 

xi 



THE SONG OF THE WHEAT 



THE SONG OF THE WHEAT 



I SPRANG from the heart of the earth, 

From the brown, still heart 

That gives, though it pulseth not, 

All things being and birth. 

This vegetable mould. 

Black, resisting, and cold, 

Is pregnant in every part 

With essence of life. 

Infused with The Spark, my shell — 

Pained with the mighty swell 

Of being and life that woke — 

Travailed : fibres broke. 

Green shoots slender. 

Powerful, though most tender. 

Pushed upward — a crust gave way — 

Earth opened . . . and I saw day ! 



II 

Myriad forms 

Pure and new as a thought of God, 

Rose from the sod, 

Sprang into life with me, 

A bending sea 

Of distant, infinite blue. 

From East to West, from South to North, 

Bent over us. We, called forth 

Up from the heart of the earth. 

Shook in the east wind's mirth. 

Thrilled to the south wind's kiss. 

Rain and dew. 

Storm and sun. 

Blessed us, made us M/V, 

And we grew. 



Ill 

Oh days 

In early summer, when all things breathe 

With delight in being ! Golden haze 

Covers valleys and distant heath. 

The wind, these times. 

Faints with its burden from Southern Climes 

Of odours, subtler than balm or myrrh. 

Then we stir 

And surge like fair seas to and fro. 

When through our green blades the light winds sweep, 

Between our thin stalks straight and tall. 

You may see, a-tremble, like flames that blow. 

The Scarlet Flowers of Sleep. 

Low down they grow, — 

Fine as a film, 

Red and soft as Love's lips glow, 

Red as jewels the gods let fall. 



IV 

Oh days, 

When the sun, red through the haze. 

Burns bronze to gold ! 

No breeze wakes, 

Sleek cows stand in orchard shade ; 

And the little sound that ebb tide makes 

At the foot of the cliffs is low and sweet 

As sighs half-breathed, as lips that meet. 

In this ripening time 

We wait so still, that we scarce are stirred 

By the flight of a startled bird 

From its nest, in the furrows made. 

Summer's power 

Changes our hue from royal green 

To golden, hour by hour. 



V 

Oh days 

Full of sweet noises ! Songs of birds. 
And gentle sound of lowing herds. 
When all around — 
From farther fields and orchard trees — 
Comes the drowsy hum of bees. 



VI 

Bend the ear 
To our sibilant whispering ! 
This is the full of the year. 
The Golden Mene, when the rich earth bears 
In plenty and fulness and mankind shares 
In the good of her, 

Oh hear, the wind wakes ; and we sing! 



VII 

See the forms. 
Big and sturdy and strong and brown ! 
The sinewy arms, 

The naked chest, where the shirt falls down, 
The blue veins swollen, the sweat of toil. 
The sweat of brow and the earth-cast look. 
The coarse shoes, red with the furrow's toil. 
The knotted hands. . . . 

The Field is the book 
These fingers turn, and these eyes pursue. 
The sudden hail, the deadly dew. 
The blight of the boll and the dry, parched days 
Are the lines that mark their tragedies 1 

These are the Workers — ! 
Their hands have made 
The great earth fertile from sea to sea. 



Silently 
They bend to their labour, knowing not 
What they shall reap that their hands have sown ! 
" Man may not live by bread alone ; " 
They ask but this, " and receive a stone ! " 



VIII 

From the faint, gray dawn to the late night's shade 

The open air is their dwelling-place. 

The sweetest and best that their lives have known 

Is the mild, soft air in the summer-time. 

When they learn the noon by the village chime 

And pause to rest for an hour's space. 



IX 

Misery, 
Is in the hut for the worker there ; 
What for his eyes to see ? — 
Children, that dumbly ask for things 
He knows not of, nor they know who plead 
More than a garment for nakedness, 
Or warmth from woe that the winter brings, 
Or bread — that, God ! is a want indeed ! 



lO 



X 

" Life for life," the Prophet says, 
The fulness of days shall come and the reapers reap. 
The white blade seethes like a wind, and we 
Tremble at death in the blade's cold kiss. 

Distant, infinite blue 
From East to West, from South to North, 
Bends over us. 

We, called forth 
Up from the heart of the earth, 
Mother that gave us birth. 
Lie on her heart again. 

Sun and dew. 

Wind and rain. 
Pass over us. 



II 



XI 

On the bare, brown land, 
In level, close-bound sheaves, we stand ; 
And this is the end. 

Till the fine, dry film from the blade 's unfurled 
And we go forth. 
From East to West, from South to North 

Bread — for the world. 



12 



IN THE JOINT OF HIS ARMOUR 



Then said the king : — " Stand here, Sir Guldemar, 

Beside me, where the arras falleth close. 

Now, down this marble stair the princess goes. 

And thou shalt mark her, hidden here with me : — 

And thou shalt tell me, on thine honour's oath, 

If any woman is as fair as she. 

(Giving thy guerdon, no fear hanging loath ! ") 

II 

" For, when thou sayest, — ^ She's more fair 

Than the queen's sister!' — straight that woman shall, 

Guldemar, to thy have and hold befall. 

The hour thou didst so knightly lift thy lance 

To shield our life, we gave our royal word — 

For Guldemar ! the fairest in all France ! " . . . 

(Guldemar stood beside his king and heard.) 



13 



Ill 

He held his head-gear downward in his hands; 
The white plume kissed along the gleaming steel 
Of his gray armour, close from head to heel. 
High around his throat's column, lay the fine, 
Steel, tinkling little links, that rose and fell 
To mark his breath. (Nor did the king divine 
The hot heart beating in the mailed shell !) 

IV 

" To women he is as the heart of ice," 
The women laughed : and held it for a wage 
That none could Baron Guldemar engage 
In sport of love, or earnest: his straight gaze 
Was like the falcon's on the hand held high, 
Above the hunter and the under-maze. 
Toward a goal cloud hidden in the sky. 



14 



V 

" The king " (he said) " is as God's bread, — above 

The hope of any save the lips absolved: 

Yet my lips touch his garment ! If involved 

My heart, Sire, can I find another fair 

But her I love ? Even though the king's sister 

Were born of Venus ? My liege lord must spare 

My finding any beauty like to HerT 

VI 

And the king smiled as one in kindly wise 
Surprising a dear secret. " Friend," (he said,) 
" Fear not to say thy ladye's lips are red 
And her eyes heaven ! We demand the truth 
From a brave knight, who knows not how to lie ! 
He shall wed but perfection, by God's Ruth, 
Whose voice cried, — ' I, and not the king, shall die ! * " 



15 



VII 

(And Guldemar) " My liege," (here his head bowed,) 
" Or the king's sister, or the fairer she, 
That woman, my dear lord will give to me?" . . . 
" By the cross ! " swore the monarch ; " though she 

prove 
Ice ! Though her hate thy passion's warmth excels." 
Said Guldemar : ^^ And if I have her love ? " 
The king : " Ourself shall ring the marriage bells." 

VIII 

The knight had thrown his gauntlets to the ground. 

His silken sleeves clung down unto his wrists. 

The foremost in the wars and in the lists 

His breast blazed with the stars of victory. 

He wore a signet such as nobles wear ; 

He wore, beneath his mail, where none could see, 

A bright chain woven of his ladye's hair ! 

i6 



IX 

" Hark ! " said the king, " the princess comes ! And 

hark. 
Those are her pages singing ! " Guldemar, 
His soul high hfted, trembling like a star, 
Flashed his quick speech like light upon the king. 
" Sire, what if my life were wholly given 
To love a woman with a marriage ring ? 
Her hell and mine, another's rightful heaven ! " 

X 

" The holy cross," the king said, " and our word 
Are linked promise ! This same night shall stir 
A great host for the holy sepulchre. 
The man who keeps thy souls and loves apart, — 
As a cursed spirit, banished from a shrine. 
Must bind the crusade cross upon his heart. 
And wind a pilgrim way from thee and thine." 

17 



XI 

Guldemar heard. There went a tinkling 
Like little heavenly bells, and soft singing, 
A pleasant smell like violet-woods in spring 
Was wafted from the princess' silks astir. 
First came the mincing pages, finely dressed. 
Then walking all alone the king's sister. 
And in her beauty one forgot the rest. 

xir 

And every knight and every troubadour 
Had given to Isobel great beauty's palm. 
Only the queen her sister, pale and calm. 
Could claim a beauty near to Isobel's. 
She came entrancing down the marble stair. 
Her glad wide eyes as blue as asphodels. 
And the imprisoned sunlight in her hair. 



i8 



XIII 

The king and knight the arras held apart. 

" Now by God's rood," the king cried, " if there is 

A fairer woman in my court than this^ 

To-night thine arms clasp her, — or Isobel ! " 

Guldemar bent his bright bold look serene. 

Upon his liege — and held his body well — 

" Sire," he said, " one is more fair — the queen," 

XIV 

The monarch dropped the arras and stood close, 
His'eyes on Guldemar's, and pride, and hate, — 
Sudden for love and gifts, — rode hot, elate. 
Guldemar's sword and gloves lay on the floor. 
The king snapped his own sword in two, then pale 
Cursed Guldemar, . . . who felt the chain he wore 
Prick him to fire beneath his coat of mail. 



19 



XV 



Without, the stony courts rang with the feet 

Of steel-shod men, and horses' clanging shoe. 

And yellow torches flashed their brilliance through 

Dim corridor, and winding way remote. 

High in the belfry rang a faint peal sweet. 

As silver bells spelt out a marriage note. 

The red cross blazed on breast and banner white. 

Shouted the warder at the castle moat — 

" To arms ! The king rides to the wars to-night ! " 



20 



LAURENS VILLA 

" There Is no happiness ! " I cried. 

" Hush, hush ! " she laughed, lying by my side. 

" I think I am too blest ! The gods 

Will smite me with their jealous rods 

Upon thy breast ! " . . . "Sweetheart," (she said,) 

"Art not content ? " I hid my head 

In silence: whilst she laughed; all slow 

Saying, — " Oh, Love, since thou must know ! 

When Laurens died, thy sword that let 

His life out, with his red blood wet 

Let in the light to me ! " . . . I turned 

And kissed her, till the fires burned 

In flame to Eros. And she slept 

Until the hushed white morning crept 

And with unprisoned sunlight came 

To wake with matin sword of flame. 

Half sleeping, I essayed to find 

Her lips : and with warm hands to bind 

21 



Her fast with her bright hair ; then watch 
The mellowing of the eaves and thatch 
Under the morning. . . . She was cold. 
I clasped within my trembling hold 
Beauty's bright lamp extinguished ! 
Her lily limbs and flower head 
Were as the unsunned dawn is cold, 
And white as was the pleated heavy fold 
Of her close-clinging linen gown. 
Her eyelids safely folded down 
Over the azure shining thro' 
That mocked the heavenly sky, with blue ! 
The fine red lip-line parted, showing 
Her small white teeth; and golden, glowing 
The splendid masses of her hair 
Wantoned their glory everywhere ! 
Smiling she lay, her arms thrown wide 
As she would clasp on every side 



22 



Happiness . . . ! This when morning came 
To wake us with its sword of flame! 

God knoweth how I listened, close 

To her lips' lovely parting rose, 

Lest one fine breath should stir . . . and bid 

The uplifting of a heavy lid. 

Or wake again that silent heart 

Whence fell the linen folds apart . . . 

Under the pulseless hills of snow 

Where strayed the blue veins to and fro 

No breath should ever stir again ! 

And then my grief broke forth like rain. 

Rang through the tomb-like house and shook 

The white doves in their rose-vine nook. 

None else to pain or grieve was there 

In the still villa anywhere. 

I lay until the dying day 

Pale as my cheeks, and cold and grey, 



23 



Stole mourning o'er the horizon. 

And then, I feared to stay alone 

With Germaine, who lay there and smiled 

So still and gladly as a child 

In first sleep, whilst my tears had made 

Rivers upon her breast and head 

And she cared nothing ! So I took 

My cloak and garment, from the hook 

Where hung her clothes. I wept, again 

Touching and kissing them. " Germaine ! 

I cried, and summoned thus the dead. 

I took the linen off the bed 

And laid one line of winding shroud 

Over my love : and weeping loud 

I looked where she lay smiling, glad. 

From head to feet, twilight yclad. 

Then I crept out — a grey old man. 



24 



They hold me under curse and ban, 

I " killed this woman as she lay 

In my embrace ! " This thing they say ! 

But Germaine, could she speak, would still 

Their lisping lies . . . ! 

"If love can kill" 
(Germaine would tell them) " why then he 
Killed me, forsooth, with loving me . . ." 

Little it matters ! I shall sleep 

In sleep like hers ; but not so deep. 

For love was earth's last gift to her I 

The little cotton dress she wore 

With ribbons, hangs against the door . . • 

In the white villa, . . . still it is ! . . . 

Only the doves were witnesses. 



25 



THE HOST 

I HAD my enemy within my house. 

My enemy — my arch, arch enemy. 
I bound my handkerchief about his brows. 

For he was wan and cried — "A Boon ! " to me. 

Standing upon the threshold — wan, distraught. 
His eyes filmed with the mist of sickness dim ; 

" He does not know it is my house ! " (I thought) 
" Salve ! " I cried, and ran to welcome him. 

He could not see nor hear; I spread my bed. 
Thereon I made him lie all weakly down. 

Blood ran into his eyes, from his rent head 
Cut deep between the eyebrow and the crown. 

Quickly I ministered what grace I could : 

Washed out the wound and bound it up with care ; 

Smoothing his kerchief as his mother would ; 
Laying my fingers gently through his hair. 

26 



From out my store I fetched a brimming cup 
Of fragrant wine, and held it to his lip, 

Lifting all tenderly his hurt head up. 

Lest he should know me, — let the curtain slip 

Between our faces. Long he drank, and deep. 

And muttered thanks to God, and stretched out wide 

His great form on my bed, thus fell asleep 
Safe as the child his mother guards beside. 

And there, within my walls, he lay at last. 

My enemy — my arch, arch enemy ! 
I let my crimson passion loose, and cast 

Curses for all the wrongs he 'd done to me. 

Crouching low at the bedfoot, still, oh, still 
As Fate relentless, long I watched him lie 

Curtained within the shadows red, until 
He seemed to lie there murdered bloodily. 



27 



Like deadly grave-robed figures, one by one, 
A cold procession passed before my gaze. 

The high bold-handed evils he had done 
To me, to mine, the ruin of our days. 

I felt my hand close on my unsheathed sword — 
" The prayers of all your yesterdays " (I cried) 

" Must gain you pardon of the gracious Lord ! " 
And he, unshriven, by my hot hate had died — 

Had I not heard wild cries without my door, 

The acclamations of the multitude. 
My enemy stirred not in his stupor 

I drew the bedshades close, and waiting stood. 

Then they were all about me in the place. 
Strange, furious faces, peering everywhere 

Seeking the hated stranger, whose foul trace 
Had left their village desolate as here. 

28 



" Show us Pasquale, show the devil hound," 
And twenty eyes flashed sharper than the blade. 

They shrieked his name until I thought no swound 
Was proof against the riot that they made. 

I saw the naked unsheathed swords, I saw 

(My enemy — my arch, arch enemy !) 
Minions of justice, armed with hate and Law 

And my guest was asleep ..." Myself am he " 

(I said before the swords their home could find). 

" Draw me without," I prayed, " I would not fall 
Here where my children sleep." And they were kind 

And dragged me far without my own portal. 

Ere they could send my soul to hell unshriven 
Pasquale's men came riding bright as day 

More time new sins to make, to cry to heaven, 
They bought Pasquale ... I write as I lay. 

29 



They say I shall not see another dawn 

But I have had the sacred Eucharist 

And write this for true knights to dream upon. 

That day of his sore need, with broken brows 
And sightless eyes blinded with bloody mist 
Helpless, whilst his pursuers hounded on 
I had my enemy within my house. 



30 



THE PAGAN 

I 

Oh the dream. 

Warm, wild, beautiful, — born of midsummer. 
No, it was April gave it ; no, it was May ! 
It was the whole round year. 
Days, months, filled with it. 
Hours Eden inspired. 
Moments astral born. 

Life 
Fused, swathed, held in its mystery. 

Perfect content in the present, 

Ecstasy at the thought of a future. 

Oh the dream . . . 

Hush, I will sing of it . . . 



31 



II 

I was a child, knee-deep in the rugged daisies ; 
Smali head level with bright bold heads tossed free. 
Brown eyes following farm and meadow mazes : 
Little heart one with nature, flower, and tree ; 
Friend with the birds . . . Then childhood passed, on 

a sudden as pure dawn's haze is 
Kissed to glorious morning, and all eyes see, 
Standing young as the June, little heart's pulse set free 
Throbbed to the song that the soul of the whole world's 

lays is : — 
A child in the home-land meadows, 

Beloved, I dreamed of thee. 



32 



Ill 

Once I walked in the heather, 

ClijfFs sheer downward touched the breast of the sea. 

Meadows 'round me stretched and kissed together. 

Met in oceans of gold grain feather 

Mad with poppies, red as blood may be. 

Summer's glory to glory ran ; — nor sense knew whether 

It were godliest born, the blue of the sea 

Or the whispering ocean of fields, as shoreless ! 

Then the tether 
Of time slipped loose, and Future showed to me. 
Cliff-high, — sea-girt, — there in the Norman weather 
All of my youth Beloved, 

I dreamed of thee. 



33 



IV 

It was in the heart of winter cold, 

When the moon is old, 

And snow on the lea. 

I leaned from my window 

And heard the sea 

Ring like brass, when deep is tolled 

The bourdon of Christ's nativity. 

The Christmas world its page unrolled 

For my pagan eyes to see. 

Sheep held close in their sparkling fold, 

And the ice-mailed tree 

Glistened, ... as tho' God leaned, and set 

Crystal tapers, with diamond fret ; 

A holy festal tree made it. 

Whose candles the moon lit ! 



34 



I smelled frankincense, from censers gold 
Shadow-swung to a litany- 
Glorious ! . . , 
Then wild, and bold, 
A Christmas storm swept over me. 
I leaned out from my parapet. 
Cliff-high tower, that keeps the sea: — 
Arms and breast on the sill icy, 
Warm arms aching to clasp and fold 
One who close on my breast should be ! 

Pagan, thus in the Night Holy, 
Breaking form of the ancient mould, 
I saw God's one star poise, and swim 
Over the birth of Love, in Him, 
But Beloved ... I dreamed of thee. 



35 




ipYRiCS 




LYRICS 



37 



SING AGAIN 

You sang me a song, 

'Twas the close of the year, 
Sing again ! 
I do not remember the name 

Or the words, 
'T is the same 

You listen to hear 
When the window is open in spring 

And the air 's full of birds ; 
One calls from the branch some rare thing 
And one sings on the wing 

The refrain. 



39 



You sang me a song. 

My heart thrilled to hear. 
The refrain 
Has run like a fillet of gold 

Through the woof 
Of the cold, 

Dark days of this year. 
To-night there 's a year at its start, 

The birds are aloof: 
But your eyes hold the sun for my part 
And the Spring 's in your heart. 

Sing again ! 



40 



FOREST LOVERS 

Of poplar, birch, and balsam boughs, 
Red cedar-walled, I '11 build my house; 
Its pillars silver-boled shall be. 
With rafters of the hemlock tree; 
Upon the ground the dried ferns spread. 
And slippery pine shall make our bed ; 

And all night long the lapping sound 
Of waves shall fill our faerie swound ; 
Nor native creatures, small and shy. 
Shall fright us, as they hurry by. 
Nor phantom rustle of the trees 
Disturb our loving mysteries. 

With the first flying birds to nest 
We '11 stretch our happy limbs to rest. 
And lip to lip, and palm to palm. 
Drift dreamward in the deep wood's calm. 
Whilst thro' the windy rafter bars 
Pale out the lanterns of the stars. 

41 



Thus love shall hold us (as Love said), 

And holy be the forest bed, 

The fresh, wild odours everywhere 

Rise on the censers of the air. 

And in the soft dark Love shall find 

New vows, our lips and souls to bind. 

When the white-vestured dawn shall move. 
We'll wake, as we have slept — with love. 
And sinless as the forest-born 
Arise with them to greet the morn. 

From every mist-grey tree-top tall 
The singing, singing dews that fall 
Shall mingle thro' veiled vistas dim 
With whisper of our marriage hymn. 



42 



LIKE TO A SONGLESS BIRD 

Like to a songless bird that swings 

On a high branch, and thrills to hear 

How the deep-hearted forest rings 
With melody enchanting clear, 

And vainly swells his throat to wake 
A song as pure as these that fill 

The wood, and every echo shake. 

Whilst he alone is dumb and still. 

So, thrilling to the music dear 

Since the first song woke, low and sweet ; 
To purest sound I bend my ear, 

And with my heart the rhythms beat; 

Until the palpitating Past 

With melody becometh rife ; 
With parted lips and hands locked fast 

I hear the songs of Love and Life. 



43 



And then I lift my voice to wake 

A song as pure as these that thrill 

Through Time. The vaults with music shake 
And I alone am dumb and still. 



44 



THREE YEARS! 

I HEARD the wind in the trees 

The stir of the leaves in the white birch tops 
Then sat alone with my past till dawn 

Crept over the edge of the leas 
And a dull red line was drawn 

In the East. There memory stops. 

We do not follow our lives 

As the almanacs run. I lived that night 
Three years in the past and three to be . . . 

As foam that the sea-wind drives 
My thoughts sped on — three years and three. 

Marked by this lock of white. 



45 



THE WIND UPON A SUMMER DAY 

The wind upon a summer day 

How sweet it is ! The shaking trees, 

The shifting shadows as they lie 

Across the grass, the bending rye. 

The blue flowers in the grain, — and you 

To love the livelong summer through — 

There are no sweeter things than these. 

The dawning of a winter day 

How sad it is ! The leafless trees, 

The frozen meadow lands that lie 

Leaden beneath a snowy sky ; 

The old year's bitterness, — and you 

To lack the livelong winter through — 

There are no sadder things than these. 



46 



ON THE NORMAN CLIFFS 

The summer fields sweep to the farther blue 
Crimson with popples, yellow gold with grain. 
They roll their warm wealth seaward — thus to you 
I bring my boundless love. Dearest, in vain 
Would I bestow its treasure otherwhere ; 
It floods to find your heart — enfold it there ! 

The land's caress the far seas never knew ; 
Not on the wave falls the sweet rain of gold. 
Far lie the changeful waters, pure and cold. 
Sundered by the high cliffs : thus I from you 
By Fate am kept a universe apart. 
And yet my constant thought inspires me 
To seek to lay my love upon your heart. 



47 



MID-WINTER 

On this midwinter afternoon, 
When all the sky is cold and grey, 
What power can change the white world's rune 
To a midsummer holiday ? 

The branches of the leafless trees. 
Bent in the pathway of the storm. 
Give up their buds to orchard bees, 
The atmosphere is soft and warm. 

And from a thousand rose-hearts, too. 
The air delicious fragrance yields ; 
The birds fly up against the blue. 

The Summer ripens on the fields. 

Thou art with me ! This happy thought. 

That all the birds of love unchains 

To the white world, has Summer brought 

Through warmth of Summer in my veins. 



48 



MARE PLACIDO 

Across the tossing tumult of my sea 
The peaceful current of your Spirit flows. 
The ships attain their harbours, enter free 
Beyond the pale horizon's line of rose. 

Tempests are banished from these miles serene 
Held cloud-free, wind-free, by your love's control, 
My sea shall yield its deep-bed treasure soon ! 
Mirror the evening star, — the cloud, — the moon 
Tranquil, as tho' no storm had ever been — 

My sea shall be the mirror of your soul. 



49 



IN THE GREENWOOD 

I FLY like a bird to my home that lies 
Far in the west, by a fair green hollow. 
The straight, fine, meadow-line runs with the skies : 
A clear horizon for sight to follow. 
To leave, then rest where the zenith 's blue. 

Blue of the bluest, like my love's eyes ! 

I leave the noise of the busy mart; 
The small stream's mouth with its shining shallows ; 
I go with its going ; till here, apart. 
Hid by rushes and low white mallows. 
Hushed in its singing it lieth deep — 

Deep of the deepest, like my love's heart ! 

I will sleep and dream while the shadows move 
And the slant of the sunlight falleth yellow. 
I will wake to the note of the greenwood dove 
As it calleth low to its distant fellow : — 
Where life of the fields and the woods is pure. 

Pure of the purest, like my love's love ! 

50 



EVENING TIME 

To-night I watch the sun go down, 
Blood-red it sinks behind the hills. 
The deep low-lying valleys brown. 
The wheat fields, and the daisied down. 
The bright, mist-shrouded radiance fills. 

Across the surface of the pond 
The small trees throw their dark shadows 
Whilst in the outlying wood beyond 
The deeper darkness broods and grows. 

The day is no awakener 
To greater beauty, than day's wane. 
The little leaves that move and stir 
Make noise as of the sound of rain. 

The very air is gone to rest. 
And long and black the shadows lie. 
As over all the crimson west 
The darkness follows up the sky. 



51 



Good-night ! — until the sun shall send 
Along the east a shining mark ! 
In answer to my greeting. Friend, 
You seem to call across the dark. 



52 



IN THE WINDOW 

Oh . . . my love comes to me to-night, 

After the weary days. 
And I must trim the candle bright 

And light a cheerful blaze. 

Then close within the window stand, 
As down the silent streets 

My heart shall hear his coming, and 
How it knows, and beats ! 

His footstep falls from stair to stair, 
(Oh my love is my own!) 

I wear a ribbon in my hair 
That only he has known. 

His kiss upon my palms he left ; 

I hold its message, still. 
Long days have made his soul bereft. 

To-night ... he takes his fill ! 



53 



In winter-time, in summer too. 

In sunshine, and in rain. 
Love waits for love, the wide world thro'. 

(Alas ... for watches vain !) 

As in my window, hid I stand ; 

(Would all so blest might be !) 
His step is on the threshold, and 

My love has come to me. 



54 



THE GLASS 

When I am old ! Oh Love, who well can say 
Whether within a year, a month, a day 
Or six times ten years that dead time shall come 
When Hope is pale and wan Desire stands dumb, 
And Love though Hving, clasps with fingers cold, 
When we are old. 

I think, perhaps, that Boundary's dim outline 
Will not be crossed by these swift steps of mine. 
But while Desire is warm, and Hope still thrills 
I shall go hence and look from unseen hills 
On mighty scrolls of centuries unrolled, 
I still not old. 

To Be : unpierced by Vision. Break the Glass ! 
But if fourscore and ten my years should pass. 
Witness, dear eyes ! Mine, looking back, shall see 
Towers of strength, and Peaceful Seas, and Thee, 
And Love, a fragrant cerement, my heart shall fold 
When I am old. 

55 



THREE DAYS MORE. . . . 

Not love's command 
Could dry one league of sea ; 
Or even God's hand 
Fold up one mile of land, 

To bring you sooner unto me ! 

There are but three more days to climb — 

To-day, to-morrow, and its mate. 

Till that day ! . . . Did love know to wait 

Would it be love ? Not in my time 

Or in my blood ! 

My thought, elate, 

Swells like a rising sea to flood 

Covering barren days between 

And brings you (as love should) 

Till you stand there — my lord, my light, my good ! 

Ere the frail screen 

Of fancy falls to my embrace 

56 



Sudden, the spell snaps short to Fate ! 
Till that day — when I see your face — 
There are still three dark days to climb. 

To-day, to-morrow, and its mate. 



57 



LOVE'S PARADOX 

I LOVE you more with every rising day 
With every waning sun I love you more. 
Love walketh with me on the outward way. 
It stands to meet me at the open door. 
It singeth low when other sounds clash loud ; 
It keeps me lonely 'mid a changing crowd. 

I love you most when I am far away ; 
I love you most when on your heart I rest ; 
I love you most when rapture has its sway, 
I love you in your still caresses best. 
In restfulness, or when your pulses beat — 
All times, forever, most I love you. Sweet ' 



58 



VITA, VITA! 

The flight of the years pursues me. 

And nothing is done ! 
Nor gained, nor made, nor accomplished — 

Only Youth — lost. 
Slave to the pleasure that fetters, (nor would be free,) 
Tired of the light before the disk of the sun 
Is more than half of a circle ! 

Stunned at the cost 
Of full free living, and nothing wherewith to pay 
The long close score that blights with its fearful truth — 

But my Youth, 



59 



THE SLEEP 

Love in a life and after life — the Sleep ! 
And we hang on a word, a look, and keep 
The pulses throbbing, — make the Spark burn low, 
And close the Book, to laugh perhaps, to weep 
Most surely ! if, oh gods ! we may but know 

Love in life ! 

Our burning hands we raise 
For dear palms' clasp, and kisses on the lips. 
And close embrace. 
We give our nights and days. 
In the one draught delectable our spirits steep. 
Forgetting — (whilst the lights of Love eclipse — ) 
'The Sleep. 



60 



THE REWARD 

I HEARD the little cricket cry 
Last night in the dull rain — as I 
Put on my dark, my sombre dress. 
(I had no ear for happiness !) 

And as I braided up my hair 
I saw the white threads, silvered there. 
And on my cheeks the mark of tears. 
My only kisses thro' the years. 

Sudden — that little voice I heard — 
Finer than call of cheerful bird. 
A human — tender — crying sound 
In the low grasses near the ground. 



6i 



Just as I said : — "7 will take Cheer 
Instead of Joy ! " — Your footsteps. Dear, 
Fell on the garden walk . . . and when 
I put my candle out, — ... Again 

Late in the night I heard it plain 
The cricket, singing in the rain. 



62 



LES REVENANTS 

My only light is candle-light 
From candles fitly set 
In sconces, dazzling. 
Long threads, half melting, cling 
To snowy candle-masts, and fret 
The straight, slim forms, and I shall sit 
Alone, until the Spirit stirs 
These lily lights (for they are conjurers). 
From the high corners, shadows flit 
Across the floor : and One shall bring 
Back all my soul has loved and missed. 
And the dim others fade when we have kissed. 
But one remains, and I am one with it. 

My only light is candle-light 

From candles burning down 
Till each flame flickers into night. 
Is it the perfume slight 
From shadow hair and shadow gown 

63 



Unseals my long-locked senses ? Or, 
Light touching hands and lips that fill 
For me the waste of time, caress until 
I live as I have lived before ? 

My only light shall be the candle's light, 
To summon shades and mysteries 
Until my soHtary spirit sees 
Your shadow steal across the shining floor. 



64 



THE BOON 

At break of day when shadows fly 
And still the earth is white with dew, 
When light soft mists on hillside lie 
And, stirring purple meadows thro', 
The morning wind moves like a sigh. 
Oh I awake then quietly ! 
Earth's sullied things draw never nigh 
When thus the day from God is new 
And from a dim far place on high 
On the chaste line of day and night 
Where holy thoughts the souls imbue 
Who wake, praise God, keep pure, walk right 
A boon comes . . . is 't not blest that I 
Walk thus thro' fields of God with you 
At break of day when shadows fly ? 



65 



THE SIGN 

Last night I felt your kisses on my face. 
Softer than April fall of wind-flowers ; 
Sweeter than summer rain upon the grass ; 
Sweeter than the light wind, that in the South 
Wakes, and in groves of myrrh and cassia stirs. 
I bent with parted lips to kiss your mouth — 
Straightway there fell a fine thin veil between. 
There stood the trees in level rows. 
The sunlight filled the trembling green 
Of the leaf-sea, in the fair close. 

By these straight boles, under these slender boughs, 
Throughout the days of midsummer, I stand 
Until God part the veil with shining hand 
And show me where you sit within His house 
Holding the seven-sparred star, whose name is Love. 
The time, though long, I know comes fast apace 
Because of the sweet sign your told'st me of, — 

Last night I felt your kisses on my face. 

66 



SONCS 




SONGS 



67 



THE FIRESIDE 

Bitter cold the winter street. 
Cold and grey the sky : 

Bitter cold the veil of sleet 
The winds drive by. 

Warm and bright the fireside. 

Red the flames with cheer ; 
What can winter's woe betide 

Us, Dear? 

On my hand I feel your palm 

As a bird lie warm : 
Oh the fireside is calm ! 

It hears no storm. 

Bleak the winter street and cold ; 
Red the flames with cheer ; 
Love and firelight enfold 

Us, Dear. 



69 



LOVE — WHERE YOU GO! 

Love, where you go December's air grows warm, 

Birds bend the barren branches to their song 
And flowers spring, your coming steps to charm. 
Bursting the band of ice, and frosty thong. 
Over the highways prisoned in by snow 
They fling a garden in old winter's scorn ! 

Saying, "The lovely spring is here ... we know ! " 
The sombre heart of midnight pales to morn 
Love — 

where 

you 

go.— 



70 



Love, where you go, grows my heart glad enow. 
My being's pulse is tune with ecstasy. 
I find a ballad on each bending bough. 
I take my lute from off the greenwood tree 
To wake the dearest melody I know. 
I '11 fling my songs broadcast, to heaven's blue 
Where the stars think your eyes are stars below. . 
My soul finds its one paradise with you — 
Love — 

where 

you 

go- 



n 



COSTANZA SINGS . . . 

My Love is a rider ! (and life 's at its pace !) 

He rides to the battle — he rides to the chase. 

His armour is burnished, his nodding plume 's curled. 
(And would I could follow him over the world!) 

Nor distance, nor danger can keep us apart. 

He comes with the shadows and lies on my heart. 
He 's gone when the midnight its pinions has furled. 

(And would I could follow him over the world !) 

I *d gladly arise — don bonnet and sword. 

And follow the steps of my Love and my Lord. 

I 'd stand by his side when the lances are hurled. 

(And would I could follow him over the world !) 



72 



MAY IN FEBRUARY 

When I go a Maying — Maying — 
There his wanton wishes go ! 

Spring, like flowers, to meet me straying. . . . 

I must pluck them — will, or no ! 

I must break each pale stalk slender : 

I must lift each flower fair ; 

For I know they are the tender 
Thoughts of love that greet me there. . . . 

I will wear them on my bosom . . . 

In the night, when he comes home 
He shall see his thoughts in blossom, 

Oh Beloved Spring-time, 

Come! 



73 



BRIER ROSE 

In among the tall weeds 
There lives a brier rose. 
Bright among the rugged reeds 
She bends and blooms and blows. 
The ragged bloom around her grows. 
And rough and rude her bed : 
But kisses of the wind she knows, 
And blushes warm and red. 

The sunny moor before her lies 

The stream runs bright and clear. 

She does not reck o' sombre skies. 

Nor knows the changing year. 

She has no ken o' winter drear. 

Nor dreads the frost and storm : 

For summer winds have called her Dear^ 

She blushes red and warm. 



74 



THE SLEEPING HEART 

My heart is in the hawthorn tree. 

I left it in the lovely house, 

Hidden among the blooming boughs. 

And every little crimson rose, 

That blushes, reddens, pales or glows, 

Shall give its secret up to thee ! 

My heart is in the hawthorn tree. 

My heart is in the hawthorn tree ! 

It wears a fragile, rose-red dress: 

A robe of spring-time loveliness. 

It has forgot its songs to sing. 

And sleepeth like a tired thing, — 

To dream new songs, to sing to thee. — 

My heart is in the hawthorn-tree. 



75 



ABSENCE 

O DARLING 

"My darling!" 
And this is all you say ? 
And what are words of love and cheer 
When one is far away ? 
O darling — 

" My darling ! " 
A word is more than none 
And if you say what I would hear 
You '11 fill the world with sun 
O darling — 

"My darling!" 



1^ 



TO-MORROW 

Where is all the sunlight gone 
Dearest heart and dearest? 
Will it come again with dawn 

Dearest heart and dearest ? 
Will it, stealing after night, 
Fold the waking hours, till bright 
To-morrow breaks the clearest. 
Best, of every day we've had 
Fresh and gay and good and glad ? 
Dearest heart — and dearest ! 



77 



OLD TIME MELODY 

I 'm pining away for the way I 'd go, 
I 'm pining away for the things I 've seen. 
For the joy of the fall of the first white snow. 
And the sweep of the forest green. 

But it 's not for the home-land, broad and fair ; 
The house on the hill, or the old ways spread ; — 
For why should I wander here or there. 
Since you went down to the dead ? 

I 'm pining away for the love you gave, 

For the world that you made, when your life lay here. 

And the path to the country beyond the grave 

Is the way that I pine for, dear ! 



78 



THOUGH ALL BETRAY 

Dearest, give your love to me, — 

I will keep it well. 
Cradle it, as does the sea 

Hold the shell — 
Deep, unseen, and secretly. 

Dearest, give your kiss to me, — 
I will keep tho' all assail : 

As the temple prayerfully 
Holds the Grail. 

Altars then my lips shall be! 

Dearest, give to me your trust, — 

I will not betray . . . 
Hold it, as the beacon must 

Hold the ray. 
Till the lighthouse stones are dust. 



79 



BREAK THY SLEEP 

When to-night, the shining snow 
Fell on forest brown and lea. 
Hanging diamonds on the tree ; — 
When the dazzling world below 
Lifted up, all brilliantly, 
Stars again, to stars to throw ; — 

Then I thought of thee ... 1 
White the winter forests sweep 
Down to meet the midnight sea, — 
Dearest, break thy charmed sleep. 
Dream a winter dream of me. 



80 



RED ROSES 

The rose that comes on winter's day- 
It is the rarest rose — (they say) 
To venture forth so bright and bold. 
With velvet leaves and heart of gold. 

To wear so brave array : — 
Daring the icy atmosphere, 
Your winter roses, greet me — Dear 
And love, all warm amid the snows, 

Comes with the rose. 



8i 



SONG 

As the days 

Go their ways ; 
And the months, and the years, 
Bring their laughter and their tears, 
And their range 

Of turn and change — 
All the old. 

Away we fold, — 

With the moth. 
And the dust ; 

Nothing loth 

Since we must 
Have the new ! 

As the days 

Go their ways 
One thing stays — 

My love for you. 



82 



SLUMBER SONG 

(The White Elf Mother sings.) 

When the low flying wind, awake. 
Brushes the lilies, and the low 
Blue flowers hidden in the brake, — 
When the sighing Alders bend and shake, — 

When the owl *s whirring, — Hush thee, dear ! 

For all the elfin lights aglow 

Will guide the slumber fairies here. 

Naught is stirring 

For my child to fear. 

When the strange sighing tree-tops sing, 

Dance all the fairies to and fro 

And white dreams from their mantles fling. 

While the flying 

Winds thy cradle swing. 
83 



When the low crooning insects cry 
Creep the white elves soft, and slow. 
Hush thee. Sweet ! and hear the merry- 
Pipes a-tuning 
For thy lullaby ! 



84 



FANTASY 

I HEAR the fluttering wind, I see 
The shadows on the grass. 
I wish that you would come to me ! 
I would not let you pass ! 
But springing up from where I lie, 
I take you in my arms, would I ! 
I *d tell you where white heather grows, 
I 'd kiss you, and I 'd hold you close, 
I would not let you pass ! 

Here, by my side, you 'd watch with me 
Cloud shadows on the grass. 
If chance that you should come may be, 
I will not let you pass ! 
Where the lost faerie kingdoms lie, 
I '11 tell in wonder-tales — will I ! 
And as the brilliant fancy grows, 
I '11 kiss you, and I '11 hold you close, 
I will not let you pass ! 
85 




ROUNDELS 



ROUNDELS 



87 



THE INSPIRATION 

These songs I sing to you, who song inspire. 
Would I a message new might find and bring ! 
Or touch with a live spark of heavenly fire 

These songs I sing ! 

Take them, for they are doves with fluttering wing, ■ 
They try to reach your window : lift them higher — 
Up to your heart — there warm and nesthng 
They shall find home, and life ! If love aspire 
Shall it not speak ? To voice a holy thing. 
To voice the heart's deep need — the soul's desire 

These songs I sing. 



89 



LUCE ADORABILE 

You came to me when I had turned and said : — 

" This, in my darkened life can never be, 
My ways are in the stumbler's paths instead ! " 

You came to me 
High and unprejudiced and spirit free. 
Wearing God's seal upon your pure forehead. 
Dearest, you bent from your bright way to see 
My flickering torch : your own, live-flashing, red 
Rekindled the faint flame. Thus holily, 
A radiance, a light when light had fled. 

You came to me. 



90 



TEACH MY SONG 

Kind and Dear you are, and Brave and Strong. 
Life has taught you worth of smile and tear ; 
Still your spirit's tenor flows along 
Kind and Dear. 

Turn to me, on whom for many a year 
Fate has wrought its work of bitter wrong ; 
(Scarce my veiled vision sees you clear !) 

On your brow Is Peace, to you belong 
Life's best gifts, oh lend me Faith and Cheer ! 
Show me Truth and Beauty, teach my song. 
Kind and Dear ! 



91 



THE APOSTROPHE 

Go, unsaid thought, wordless and songless both ! 
With fluttering pinions, still unseen, unsought. 
Circle the spirit's white flame like a moth — 

Go — unsaid thought ! 

Go to the one by whom my soul is taught ; 
Go — wing your joyous journey, nothing loth 
Like sunbeams in the hearts of lilies caught. 

Like perfume that eludes, yet lingereth ; — 
Until your subtle mission 's fully wrought — 
To charm, as a dear dream's pale image doth, — 

Go — unsaid thought ! 



92 



CARRIER DOVES 

Friend, unto thee I bend my constant thought ; 
Its current running as a stream to sea. 
From hidden sources of my being brought. 

Friend, unto thee. 

If the wise wonders of the world could be 
Found by a spell, sure my quick love had sought 
Each potent and elusive mystery. ' 

Into an amulet together wrought 
To charm thee ! With this full confession free — 
I loose my doves to-day, their ways are taught, 

Friend, unto thee! 



93 



THE NEW FRIEND 

Friend — my restless spirit never knew 
What good gifts the heavens kept late to send 
Till the dear day dawned that brought me — you. 
Friend 1 

Lacking love like this, too many wend 
Graveward. Highest heaven holds few 
Joys like this, with cruel pain to blend. 

I who know not Peace may feel its dew ; 
I who have no prayers may kneel and bend 
In this gentle presence ; — dear and new 
Friend 1 



94 



L'OISEAU DES BOIS 

Last night I heard in the wood green and still. 
The sweetest music sung by any bird. 
I never knew the soul of song, until 

Last night I heard. 

Pure as life's morning, warm as love first stirred, 
Fresh it outpoured our close attent to fill. 
Dearest, you were beside me, and your word 
Did through the heavenly harmonies distil 
The spirit's joy : and grosser sense was blurred. 
I never knew the soul of Love, until — 
Last night I heard ! 



95 



GOD'S IS THE NIGHT 

Good night, — Love rules the world, — Sleep you !■ 

There is no evil in Love's sight. 

See how heaven's lamps swing in the blue, — 

Good night ! 
Oh what avails the futile flight 
Of thought to bless the long dark through ? 
Deep is the darkness^ and, despite 
Of Love, our care is frail to do 
For those we love : but all is right, 
GoiTs is the darkness ; friend, to you — 

Good night ! 



96 



CHRISTMAS 

Dearest . . . for thee I make my Christmas song ! 

A song of holly and of fragrant tree. 

Of festivals, that sweep their happy throng, 

Dearest, for thee ! 

Look . . . how the folding snow is on the lea ; 
See the fine hoar frost lie the hedge along 
And the white holy stars shine mistily. 
A Christmas gift held high, though winds are strong, 
A warm and glowing gift, though ice may be, 
Comes star-blest, Christ-blest, over pain and wrong. 

Dearest, for thee ! 



97 



LOVE'S UNIVERSE 

I FIND in thee fields, valleys, plains, and hills. 
Deep tender depths, a forest and a sea. 
All that the warm wide Earth with beauty fills 

I find in thee. 

Each a small part of God's fair world are we. 
Each one to a quick pulse of nature thrills 
Or mirrors in his soul a mystery. 

All sweetness that the summer wind distils, 
And all of winter beauty that may be. 
All that wakes ecstasy, or calms, or stills, 

I find in thee ! 



98 



SUMMER 

Sea and sand and here our small home's place is 
Where the low suns flush the warm wide land 
Golden flooding, till the whole world's face is 

Sea and Sand. 

Far beyond our horizons, expand 
Happy bays — they say : but the wave's race is 
Toward our love-bound island, tempest-banned. 
Here for you and me the season's grace is. 
Here the heart's response, the touch of hand 
Make love's universe, and Heaven's embrace is 

Sea and Sand. 



99 
LofC. 



WINTER 

Sand and sea, and white gull's fluttering feather 
Down upon the beach, the salt pool's fee. 
Birds have left to storm and the wind's tether 

Sand and Sea. 

Warm and bright those southern ports may be, 
Here, the ribald winter rules the weather 
Crying in the bending, tossing tree : 

We are two — sweetheart — and care not whether 
Summer reign, or Winter — so that we 
Live and love, as close as kiss together 

Sand and Sea. 



100 



AMOR IN EXCELSIS 

1 LOVE you so that I would rather have 
Your happiness than any joy below. 
I would give up my soul your soul to save, 
I love you so ! 

If round your island like sea should flow 
The dearest gifts men ever sought or gave — 
My heart's desire should on the first crest glow! 

My love counts pain and death small things to brave; 
My love shall find the joy the immortals know ; 
And triumph o'er the future — and the grave, — 

I love you so ! 



lOI 



THE ROSE 

Never again, Dearest, oh never more! 
Not in the spring-time's swift enchanted reign, 
Shall hope to hope, shall love to love implore. 

Never again ! 

Not in the summer — nor when autumn's wane 
Blows the dry leaves along earth's windy floor. 
Nor in the winter : that strange joy and pain 

No seasons' circle ever can restore. 
The roses of to-day no tears shall stain, — 
They 're thornless ! You shall see the rose you wore 

Never again ! 



102 



WHERE ARE YOU, DEAR? 

Where are you, Dear, now that the winter white 
Has nearly run its course ? Spring will be here 
And birds shall sing as home they wing their flight, 
" Where are you. Dear ? " 

Thus I have sung and waited thro' the year. 
Saying at morning : " You will come with night? " 
And in the night : " With the dawn kind and clear, 

" You will pass by ! " My little dwelling bright 
Has its soft curtains drawn ; I wait the cheer 
Your presence brings by day and candle-light ; 
" Where are you. Dear ? " 



103 



LA MORT EST TOUJOURS FID£LE! 

GpNE ! . . . 

And steal the shadows grey 
Where our window shone 
Late with lights ; too soon are they 
Gone. 

All that Heaven won 

When it took you, love, away 

My heaven 's built upon : — 

" Joy of life — Come back a day ! " 
But the path leads on 
Through the night . . . Grief wakes to say 
« Gone ! " 



104 



THE WATCH 

By candle-light when every fine flame played 
About your bed so long and cold and white, — 
I sat and kept my watch, and wept and prayed 

By candle-light. 

Till memories a holy, holy flight 

Came back from our far childhood's years, and stayed 

Touching us with their wings. And to thy bright 

High presence, " I will be all days " (I said) 
" A torch to hold thy spirit's flame aright." 
This was the tender promise that I made 

By candle-light. 



105 



THE YEAR'S END 

What are my ways now that my Love is dead ? 
As candles round a bier stand future days. 
Must I then read in annals of years fled 

What are my ways ? 
On, the Time-reaping shining sickle sways ; 
I watch in fog and rain with bended head ; 
And for no flower swathe the cold blade stays. 
If memory were a solace, hearts that bled 
Were healed long since ! . . . Now the quick tear 

betrays 
I may not with my past be comforted : 

What are my ways ? 



1 06 



OUTRE MORT 

You came to me in visions of the night, 
Your pale brow bound by a bright ring of flame ; 
High, unapproachable, and dazzling white, 

You came. 

I rose and called you by your dearest name ; — 
" Tell me," I said, " how go the hours' flight 
In that far land ? Do men strive there for Fame 

And Love ? Then I lost sense and sight : 
You bent to me, — your kisses were the same 
As when, long since, to be my life's delight 

You came. 



107 



DEAD LOVE 

Dark the day when love is gone — 

When the vital spark 
Dies, and leaves the soul of one 

Dark. 

April for the birds shall hark. 

March's wildness sown, 
June with crimson bloom shall mark. 
What has hope to build upon 
Cold and stiff and stark ? 
All the future stretches on 

Dark. 



1 08 



SONNETS 



109 



VIVA! ANIMA CARISSIMA 



Hail, Dearest ! could verse make you live again 

I 'd rise with pallid-circled dawn to write 

Until the veiled, the jealous hand of night 

(Like Death that snatched you from the world of men) 

Cloud up my thought and tracery of my pen. 

Then would I burn the gentle candle-light 

Till, fading spectre, sank each tall mast white 

And cold stars lent their brilliant lanterns. . . . Then 

Should slumber only hold me till a dream 

Brought new enraptured rhythm — new song to give 

Through vision of your soul's transcendent flame. 

Youth, life, and love, should harness to the theme 

Draw to Olympus — pleading Jove for Fame. 

Oh Dearest, if my verse could make you live ! 



Ill 



II 

Hail, hail ! . . . Where the horizon fades and glows, 
Last night I seemed to see you standing, Sweet. 
Light mantled you from starry head to feet ; 
Aureoles bound your brows, pale flame on Snows. 
Beloved, — in your hand you held a Rose, 
No flower immortal, red as hearts that beat 
For earthly love, nor know the winding-sheet. 
Who loves, who has been loved, the Symbol knows ! 
As you came toward me, with the Rose, royal. 
Faint heart took cheer ; — cheeks wan with sullen grief 
Grew bright with thought of Bliss beyond the Veil. 
Nirvana holds no lover's heart in thrall. 
I wear the Rose, a kiss, each crimson leaf 
Warm with your lips. . . . Hail my Beloved ! . . . 

Hail! 



112 



Ill 

If Fate had said, when first I saw thee stand 

Straight, tall, and beautiful, and all my own — 

" This is for you, the kingdom and the throne 

" The rule and the dominion of the land ; 

" Eyes, lips, and benison of dearest hand, 

" Caress of voice, and laugh, and lowest tone ; 

" Choose ! Will you surfeit, then go forth alone, 

" Because so favoured the more cursed and banned ? " 

I 'd choose to lack thee ! Ignorant, and blest 

Though love and thee were to have heaven possessed. 

Oh who would face the desolation's sting 

Or choose to live bereft, with memory ? 

I still may find after my Winter — Spring 
If Fate would wipe the tablets clear of thee. 



113 



IV 

When they together saw the Calendar 

Slip by in months that wore Spring all days long, 

He made his lover's verse and roundel song, 

The burthen of the rhyme his love of her ! . . . 

What though the storm swept by with rainy stir, 

And winds, like ghosts, would 'round the windows 

throng. 
They sat heart-linked, hand-linked ; and bright and 

strong 
Riot ran through their veins like Midsummer. 
For palm to palm is exquisite as May ; 
And lip on lip is mad July at best ! 
Where is the fire for this pale winter's day ? 
For one who sits alone at Death's behest ? 
Ghosts of the storm peer in with charnel mirth 
At ghosts of ashes on the gusty hearth. 



114 



EXCOMMUNICATE 

I DO not find an altar, or a priest, 

Nor any sacred still confessional ; 

Masses and vespers, I must shun them all, 

Tho* every belfry bid me to the feast ! 

I may not wear the cross upon my breast ; 

Nor make its sign ; — or in repentance fall 

Before the niched saint. In canticle 

I must not chaunt one frail blurred note, or least. 

For my religion is my joy and shame ; 

My priest, my altar, canticle, and mass 

Art thou ! and lest thou hear my creed, and know ; 

Shouldst hear me sing my love, or pray thy name — 

Unshriven with my burden I must go ; 

Proud, excommunicate, I pagan pass ! 



115 



THE CONFESSION 

Oh, when I saw you yesterday I stood 

Trembling and silent ; thus you could not know 

The vibrant, singing beauty, stealing slow, 

A sacred fire through my veins and blood. 

In the poor, songless, unawakened wood 

Of lute forgotten, who can guess the flow 

Of hidden harmonies to overthrow 

The heart and sense if one set free the flood ? 

As the deaf master never hears the tone 

His genius wakes ; so you, who make me sing. 

And all the pulses of my life control. 

Know but my silence, whilst for you alone 

Music and thought and song their concourse ring. 

Turn, then, and hear the love-song of my soul. 



ii6 



THE KINGDOM 

Behold I bring a Kingdom in my hand, 
Oh bend your eyes upon it ! . . . Ways of peace 
Lead by its rivers. Fields of rest are these 
Above the endless skies of God expand. 
Oceans of dear delight kiss on the sand. 
And azure islands lift their waving trees 
Where virgin forests' twined interstices 
Shadow the pools of sleep, deep inland seas ! 

This is my lovely Kingdom. . . . Tho' you reign 
Over an empire, proud, imperial, 
Annex this land of beauty to your part ; 
Else, like a mirage, seen, then lost again 
It fade forever ! Kingdoms vanish all — 
Immortal is the land of love. Sweetheart! 



117 



AMOR VICTRIX 

Strong Death, proud power invisible, even now 
Slowly thou drawest near me in the dark, — 
And though within me the clear glowing spark 
Of life is warm and beats in heart and brow. 
My body shall grow colder, till I bow, 
White as the ash, thine unresisting mark. 
But for the word from the veiled years I hark, — 
As calm and as invincible as Thou. 
And when at last I feel thy kisses, — Death, — 
My fading lips shall smiling tell thee this — 
" Master thou art not ! On my Spirit's shrine 
Deathless, although the altar crumbleth. 
Ascend twin flames in one, — to find God's bliss. 
As God immortal, — my Love's love and mine ! " 



ii8 



SAINT OUEN 

Oh shrive my soul, Beloved ! Yesterday 
I placed two candles, straight and slim and fair 
Before a virgin's altar, kneeling there 
For our united lives and love to pray. 
Around me the cathedral's stillness lay ; 
The mystery of God was everywhere ; 
Lifting the misty aisles through incensed air 
Uprose the threading pillars, dim and grey. 

God heard my prayer: and He forgave my need. 

If after that day's grace and majesty 

I fall and pay my sin with bitter cost; — 

You who have taught me prayer again, and creed, 

Bend down in dear forgiveness unto me ! 

Shrive me, Beloved ! or my soul is lost. 



119 



RENUNCIATION 

I HAVE not ever reached for Paradise ; 

Nor sought beyond my fellows to be blessed. 

Nor hoped where all men fail ; — but quick confessed 

The Limit, and the taunting Mark that flies. 

But since I 've seen thy soul without disguise ; 

And dreamed thy love's great passion once expressed ; 

I 've known my portion's good in one sole best : — 

Thy love and thee, — strong Spirit pure and wise 1 

To read thro' tortuous lines, at length to see 

What is the single goal, the heart's desire, 

And then without possession learn to live, — 

Is Life . . . ! Toward this, my chastened mind I give. 

And thro' Renunciation dare aspire 

To reach God's light, thro' love and loss of thee. 



120 



ENVOI 

A SONG of France in the autumn time, 

When rooks fly low, then go calling, calling 
That summer 's a thing of long ago, 
For the golden warmth you would never know, 
But the bronze-brown forests tell you so. 
And the leaves are falling, falling. 

The broad, bright river shines and flows 

In sweeps of blue ; then goes singing, singing. 

Where borders of fern in crimson line 

Are aglow like flame in the late sunshine. 

In little slim poplars straight and fine. 
Mistletoe 's clinging, clinging. 

What matter after the sun goes down 

If chill creeps out from the forest's hollow. 

Promising winter that earth affrays ? 

Is not the course of the year always 

Toward spring, — and glory of golden days 
To follow, follow, follow ? 

121 



The light of the late year *s in my heart ! 

It will not linger on death or dying. 
Like leaves of the forest, sere and gone, 
Are hopes of a future it once looked on ; 
But Life and Love to goals to be won. 

Go flying, flying, flying. 



122 



M 








SP''o« 



?ss 



709 



^■A^ 



1 
































1 










..«««.«™«^^ 



